A Madness Shared
by cranesandcranesandcranes
Summary: It was a spur-of-the moment thing, an act of lust and convenience. She meant nothing to him. She couldn't mean anything to him. She was just another woman. That was what Dean tried to tell himself. But the truth was that Alicia Fox was anything but typical, in fact, she may have been the only other person on Earth that marched to the same highly-irregular beat that he did.
1. Chapter 1

**Haven't done a one-shot in a while and this came to me watching Raw. Be warned, it's probably the smuttiest and most nonsensical thing I've written so far... but if you like smutty nonsense, you're in for a treat :P**

"OK, Dean you're good to go. Just avoid moving your neck too much for the next few days," Doctor Sampson concluded. Raw had just gone off the air, with Seth Rollins and his Authority cronies yet again using their superior numbers to lay quite the beating on one Dean Ambrose. A curb stomp to a briefcase may have been small potatoes in comparison to what had gone before, but it was one hell of a blow for a recently-concussed head to take.

"Don't move my neck too much, what the fuck does that mean? Like, I can't roll over in bed or I should just avoid heavy metal concerts for a while? How much neck movement are we talking here?" Dean questioned rapidly, causing the doctor to sigh slightly, seemingly trying to do downplay his despair lest he become the latest victim of the Lunatic Fringe, who had been living up to that moniker more than ever of late.

"Just avoid any heavy impacts. Look, I don't know why I bother saying any of this, I told you to take three months off after the cinderblock incident and you barely took one," he replied frustratedly.

"That's because, like I told you at the time, the only real remedy for something like that is to get back in the ring as soon as humanly possible and make the snivelling little rat responsible bleed from every internal organ!" Dean ranted abruptly, causing the trainer's room rest bed to shake violently.

"Umm... I'll see you at Smackdown," the doctor murmured hastily and backed out of the door, his work for the evening done and not a moment too soon.

"Don't move my neck, what a load of... does he realise he's talking to a man who's been stabbed with needles, slammed onto barbed wire, sliced open with an electric saw..."

"Are you talking to yourself?" a voice suddenly asked out of nowhere. Blatanly disregarding the doctor's warning, Dean whipped his head around in the direction of the doorway (which was admittedly rather painful) to find Alicia Fox reclining on the frame, still dressed in her ring gear.

"Don't be embarrassed, I talk to myself all the time. The most interesting people in the world never run out of things to say, even when they're by themselves," she declared, taking her customary long strides across the room while Dean watched her with bemusement. He might have been a little left-of-centre himself, but he was damned if he knew what went on this young woman's head.

"Aww, did Deany-weenie hurt himself?" she cooed leaning down toward the bed and pinching his cheek as Dean did his best to resist.

"Didn't you see?" he asked as he finally broke free of her grasp.

"Nope, I was too busy watching what me and my new best friend did to AJ, over and over and over again," Alicia smiled gleefully, almost bouncing on the spot with delight. Manic pleasure from causing another person pain, now that _was_ something Dean could relate to. That didn't make her any less annoying though.

"Well, I kinda had my head wedged between a metal case and the boot of a 220-pound man, it's a little more painful than getting your weave pulled out or whatever," he drawled dismissively.

Alicia frowned, pouted and placed her hands on her hips. Dean smirked, and conceded to himself that this sight was indeed rather cute.

"Excuse me?" Alicia questioned in a disgruntled tone, leaning her face close to his while keeping her hands firmly at her sides.

"I'm tough. I'm _really _tough, look at..." she trailed off as she flexed her right bicep in his direction, causing his smirk to grow yet wider.

"...Huh, see? And, I'm a former Divas champion..."

"An undefined one, if I recall," Dean quipped. Another frown. Very, very cute indeed.

"Slip of the tongue, it happens, but anyway..." Alicia rambled on.

"...Do you remember Eve? How about Kaitlyn? Or Kelly Kelly? Or Beth Phoenix? They didn't wanna leave, oh no, I _made_ them. They knew they didn't have the guts to face me again."

She nodded proudly with a wistful smile as Dean began to shake his head. He liked to think he'd maintained some sort of grounding in reality throughout his twisted and tortured existence. Here before him stood a bona-fide, 24-carat nutjob. A very pretty an oddly charming nutjob, admittedly; that was becoming increasingly apparent as he watched the disappointment return to her face.

"Why's that so hard to believe?" she spat.

"Beth Phoenix was afraid of you?" he repeated sceptically.

He'd clearly accidentally pushed the red button. Next thing he knew Alicia was astride him pushing him back onto the rest bed and slapping him wildly about the face, making a noise that sounded remarkably like a literal cat fight.

"Why aren't you taking me seriously?!" she cried, now abandoning the slapping to pull at random strands of his gelled brown hair.

"It's... aagh! Not that... ow! It's not that I don't think you're talented..." Dean managed to splutter.

"...it's just that... geez, stop it! I think you might be exaggerating the... are you crying?!"

She was, quite a bit in fact. As typically bizarre an overreaction as this was Dean couldn't help but feel a little moved by her distress, just a little. Did this really mean so much to her?

"I really want us to be friends, Dean..." she insisted in a lost, little-girl voice, allowing him to sit back upright as she remained straddled across his thighs.

"...I totally do. But that won't happen if you don't respect me."

"Well, don't worry. I do. I do respect you, Alicia," he replied, and with no hint of sarcasm. It was hard not to admire someone this comfortable with being absolutely deranged. He'd always said the world would be a much better place if so many people didn't kid themselves into thinking they were well-adjusted human beings.

"For real?" she asked.

"For real," he affirmed.

"Pinky promise?" she added.

"Pinky... wait, what?" he didn't know what that meant. Sounded a little rude.

"I get my little finger, you get your little finger and, voila!" Alicia instructed, linking the pinkies of their right hands together.

"There, now you can't lie to me ever again or I'll hate you forever," she proclaimed. Dean chuckled. Alicia's expression suggested she wasn't in fact joking.

"So, now we're friends..." Alicia began.

"...What'cha wanna do?"

"Well, I don't think friends straddle one another," Dean smiled awkwardly and with a little regret. There were worse socially uncomfortable situations to be in, that was for certain.

"_Best_ friends do..." Alicia answered with a wicked smile, and leant forward so their faces were almost touching.

"Wanna be my best friend, Dean?"

This was so wrong, so ridiculous, so absurd, but romance in the nice and normal sense was oh so overrated as far as Dean was concerned. He wasn't sure what would happen next, but he knew he couldn't wait to find out.

"I think I do," he smiled back, moving his lips to hers.

Alicia met him with a deep, tender kiss, slowly grinding her hips into his middle as their tongues began to touch. Dean roamed along the edges of her tight torso with his hands, while she scooped hers under his tanktop, extricating herself from his mouth to guide it over his head.

"Better lock this door," she suddenly muttered in realisation, dismounting from him and wandering back to pull the catch. Dean joined her on his feet, only for her to turn around and fire up with indignation.

"SIT BACK DOWN! I'M IN CHARGE!" she snapped suddenly. Dean humoured her with a chastised nod as he slumped back down on the bed. He had no problem whatsoever with this.

"Be patient," she cautioned, raising her finger. Dean watched on transfixed as she raised one long, shapely leg and planted her foot on the bed beside him, then the other, to remove her wrestling boots. Then she turned away from him; bending over and guiding her trunks down to her ankles to expose her plump, round bottom. Dean let out a subconscious 'whoa,' causing Alicia to smile at him over her shoulder.

"I know, right?" she beamed proudly. Keeping her back to him, she lifted her top over her head, then strode confidently towards him, fully naked. Dean shook his head in disbelief. Today had taken a very unexpected turn for the better. He definitely wasn't going to follow the doctor's advice now.

As she stood directly ahead of him, he made a grab toward her full, perky breasts, only to be swatted away.

"_No _touching!" she ordered, before her hungry smile returned.

"It's your turn now," she said.

Only fair, Dean thought, standing up as she took his place sat on the bed. He watched her eyes trace each contour of his sculpted chest and arms, even treating her to a rather uncharacteristic flex of his biceps as he lowered his hands down to his waist, slowly undoing his belt and letting his jeans fall.

Having already dispensed with his shoes during his medical examination, he stepped out of the trousers and finally lowered his boxer shorts mere inches from her face, a blessed relief to his throbbing manhood which had been threatening to break loose almost ever since she first made contact with him. His striptease lacked the flair and panache of hers, he thought, but she seemed sufficiently impressed. Alicia's gaze fell to his crotch and her eyebrows raised appreciatively.

"I know, right?" he quipped, cockily echoing her earlier words.

"Now... sit back on the bed..." having been momentarily waylaid by this sight, Alicia was back to her bossy self.

"...You're gonna show me just what a good friend you are," she crooned, straddling him once again.

"Did Paige have to do this?" Dean queried cheekily.

"In her dreams," Alicia laughed.

"So, what do you want me to do?" Dean asked, softly but eagerly.

"Use your imagination," she replied.

Dean knew where he wanted to visit first; bringing his arms around her upper back he leant her forward slightly as he lowered his face into her firm chest, taking her erect right nipple in his mouth.

"Mmm... good start," Alicia murmured in arousal as he worked his tongue around the areola, only glancing the nipple itself for tantalisingly brief moments, each one appearing to increase the moist feeling against his thighs as her body slowly began to submit itself to him. Once he had repeated the motion with her other breast, she lifted herself off of him once again.

"Now... on your back..." she breathed softly in his ear, followed by a kiss to his cheek. Dean swung his legs around and reclined on the narrow bed; it was the hardly the most comfortable venue but it would have to do.

"I've got a great idea," Alicia suddenly piped up. Dean waited in wonder and a slight amount of concern as she walked to the far corner of the room. She was after all, completely off her rocker, and the room contained all manner of needles and knives. His own tastes in the bedroom were a little unorthodox, but that was a step too far even for him.

He sighed with relief as she produced two water bottles from the fridge, pounding them together in her hands as she often did with soft drinks during her in-ring meltdowns. So long as it didn't preclude her beating the crap out of him, he agreed this was a good idea.

Discarding the caps, she knelt over him and lifted the bottles over her head. So spellbound was he watching the liquid shimmer and glisten across every curve and muscle on her willowy frame, he didn't notice her preparing to douse him in the remaining water.

"Careful! You never heard of shrinkage?" he shivered has the water splashed down his chest and down to his groin.

"Don't worry, Deany, you only need your mouth for this next part," Alicia said as she lowered her abdomen down towards his face, barely giving him a second to contemplate what was about to happen before he found himself submerged between her thighs. Not that he was complaining.

Soon he was working his tongue across her tight entrance, breaching her folds more and more with each lick until he delved right in, his hands reaching behind her and grabbing a hold of the ample flesh of her backside as he brought her right down on top of him, sucking and releasing, pausing occasionally to savour the taste and her ecstatic moans. Every so often it crossed his mind that all this was occurring at an arena, where mere minutes ago his former best friend knocked him unconscious, lending the whole thing an air of utter surrealism.

After a few minutes Alicia lifted herself off of him and knelt either side of his legs. Dean glanced up at her moistened body. She fondled his penis carefully, practically marvelling at it with her eyes and making the bizarre tiger-like growls he'd heard her make in the ring on occasion. It was far from a turn-off, he had to admit.

"OK..." she panted,

"...Main event time."

She spun around and rolled onto all fours, turning her head back to him and almost tauntingly asking:

"Ready?"

Rising to his knees behind her, he grabbed lightly onto her hips as his member breached her walls from behind. He tried his best to pace himself, but she was very tight, and he rather well-endowed even if he did say so himself. It was over in minutes, but minutes were all they needed to drive each other to their frenzied, wild climaxes. He felt her begin to judder against him, her theatrical moans dying down as the pleasure became unintelligible, the added friction causing him to also near his peak, pulling out just before his moment of release and using his fingers to bring Alicia to hers. The last thing he or the world at large needed was Fox-Ambrose offspring.

"Wow... hope no one heard that. Actually, no, I hope they did; that was friggin' awesome. Damn, looks like we've got some cleaning up to do," Dean mused as Alicia turned to kneel opposite him on the bed.

"Yup, looks like it..." she agreed with a girlish giggle.

"...and yeah, it was awesome. You're definitely my boyfriend now."

"Boyfriend?!" Dean echoed in dismay. He knew he should have at least tried to help his brain override his loins. What had he gotten himself into?


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm a little stumped on my other two multi-chapter fics at the moment, and I got a load of wonderful reviews for this asking me to continue and I've had a fair few ideas I'd like to play with so I figured I'd make something of them. I'm going to have it loosely follow real-life on-screen happenings in terms of wider context, although obviously the Dean-Alicia stuff will be all of my own making. This chapter takes place following last week's Raw (1/12/2015)**

"I'm telling you, man, it's him!"

"Come on, do you really think _Dean Ambrose_ has nothing better to do than play pool by himself in a place like _this_?"

Dean wheeled round in the direction of the two slurred voices, a perturbed look on his face.

"No, I don't have anything better to do. Care to join me?" he drawled sardonically.

"...I warn you now, though; the last guy who dared beat me at pool ended up with my cue halfway down his throat."

"See, bro, I told you it was him!" one of the boys, neither of whom looked a day over 21, exclaimed gratingly.

"No fucking way, I fucking love you man!" his companion chimed in, even louder and bringing Dean even closer to cracking the blunt instrument in his hand across the younger man's shaven head.

"...C-can we take a picture with you, dude?"

"Unless it's of me stuffing pool balls into ever conceivable orifice on both of your bodies, then no," Dean snapped. Even in their intoxicated state, the two boys knew not to press the issue any further. If they were the ardent followers of his career that they claimed to be, then they would be well aware that the look he was giving them at this moment spelled disaster for anyone foolish enough to stick around.

Dean was ending the evening the way he so often did: In the dingiest bar in town, with a double whiskey and coke in hand, and a mind fixated solely upon securing himself at least one of two things; a fight and a fuck.

Suddenly, some commotion in the far corner of the room had Dean's sixth sense for chaos and violence tingling. A small crowd had gathered there, exhibiting the combination of worry, amusement and curiosity that only unsanctioned, unexpected public violence brought out in people. A woman was screaming, not in terror, but in blind, unabashed fury. This he had to see.

He moved furtively closer to the action, his features twitching with eagerness to see what part he could play in exacerbating the situation. As he neared the danger zone, the screams and shouts became intelligible, and oddly familiar.

"You think just cos I'm drunk I'm legally obliged to fuck you?! Have you seen yourself? You've got more limbs than teeth!" Alicia. No possible doubt. Suddenly, Dean's eagerness to intervene faded.

He'd successfully given her the slip any time their paths had crossed since his urges had gotten the better of him in the training room a few months ago. Flat refusing to acknowledge someone's existence was a surprisingly effective tactic; all it took was to be tactless enough to do it, and Dean had never had trouble being tactless. Eventually, just as he'd predicted, she'd grown bored and sought more interactive and easily-manipulated targets for her amusement.

He couldn't deny that he'd had a lot of fun with her that night, or that certain fantasies had been dancing around his head ever since, but it wasn't worth the risk of getting dragged into her warped little world. Dealing with one deluded halfwit was enough. Heck, keeping his own impulsive, destructive mind in check was a full-time job.

Nonetheless, he couldn't deny being rather morbidlly curious as to see where Alicia's latest meltdown was about to take her. He'd always found them rather compelling viewing.

After delivering a firm backhanded slap to the face to the toothless wonder, which had his friends whooping and gasping in astonishment, Alicia rounded on the next one, throwing her arms over his shoulders and eliciting an 'oooh' from the gathered crowd.

"You're actually kinda cute, in a sort of... pet monkey kind of way... I might let you off," she cooed, looking him up and down and ruffling his hair. All of a sudden her gaze hardened and she moved her hands from his shoulders to the collar of his shirt.

"_._..Wait a second... were you just looking down my top?! YOU WERE, WEREN'T YOU?!"

She headbutted him; full-on, unflinchingly nutted him right between the eyes. Dean had to stop himself audibly cheering her on. She was a hell-raiser, a pain-giver... a _lunatic. _She loved wreaking havoc on complete strangers at the slightest provocation following a tough day at the office just as much as he did.

Using the agility she regularly demonstrated between the ropes, she leapt atop the bar and stood upright.

"Just to make things perfectly clear; nobody in this room has a chance in hell of taking me home tonight," she proclaimed loudly.

"Shut up, you crazy bitch!" a paunchy middle-aged man stood immediately to Dean's left slurred out of nowhere.

"Don't you fucking talk to her like that!" Dean snapped. Much as he tried to tell himself he was merely seizing on an excuse to start a ruckus, he genuinely felt obliged to defend Alicia's honour.

"That psycho broad's yours? Geez, you need to learn to control your woman," the man slurred condescendingly.

"Control her? She's not a fucking labrador, you misogynist fuck!" Dean scolded, not waiting for a reply before jamming his pool cue into his ample gut.

"Dean! Deany!" Alicia bounced up and down on the bar in delight. Such was he expecting the inevitable consequence of this, Dean was in position to catch her when she lost her footing and tumbled backward toward the floor to much cheers and laughter from the assembled throng.

"Woah, thanks," she breathed in bewilderment as she lay bridal-style in his arms.

"No problem, darling. Now, let's blow this inbred convention before they call the cops on us," he implored, carrying her apace through the corridor of aghast onlookers toward the door.

"You've been a wonderful audience, folks! Catch us on your televisions ever Monday and Thursday night!" he bellowed theatrically as they made it over the threshold without any of their victims' friends daring to attempt any retribution.

As soon as they were a safe distance away, Dean let Alicia down to her feet, noting her lack of equilibrium and maintaining a grip at her sides.

"What the hell were you doing in a dump like that? It's no place for a lady," he chided in disbelief rather than disappointment.

"Do I look like a lady to you?" Alicia snapped.

"Is there powder on my nose? Am I wearing a parasol?"

"That doesn't make any sense; a parasol's an umbrella. You'd be holding it, not wearing it," Dean countered plaintively. He felt rather ashamed at possessing that particular bit of knowledge.

"The point is, I can handle myself and I can drink wherever I want," Alicia asserted.

"And is drinking alone something you make a habit of?" Dean enquired.

"Seems like I don't really have much choice these days..." Alicia sighed wearily with a pout.

"...Paige beat the crap out of me and then decided she'd rather hang out with _Nattie_ of all people. Guess she likes hearing the same five stories about the Dungeon on loop and pretending to be amused by cat videos."

"Well, Naomi seemed perfectly cool with being your friend. Right up until _you_ decided to beat the crap out of _her_. Surely I'm not the only one who can see a teensy bit of hypocrisy there," Dean fired back smugly.

"Naomi was _jealous _of me! Everyone could see that. If I didn't beat her to the punch, literally, she would've been the one blindsiding me before long. She'd been so bitter ever since they told her she was too boring for _Total Divas_," Alicia ranted, pacing up and down the pavement as Dean looked on unimpressed.

"Well, boring certainly isn't a criticism that can be aimed at you," he quipped. Big mistake.

"And _you_! Why am I telling _you_ all this?" Alicia thundered.

"You're the worst friend I've ever had! You pretended to be my friend to get me to fuck you and then laughed in my face about it. I'm just one big joke to everybody, aren't I? Let's just laugh at 'crazy Alicia,' she won't notice, she's nuts. Ha ha ha HA HA HA HA!"

After she ceased yelling mimicked laughter in his face, she abruptly broke down in tears, just as she had that day in the trainer's room. And yet again, Dean couldn't help but be moved, this time even more so knowing he really had treated her like dirt. He'd done exactly what she just described; thought she was just some peculiar nuisance, some clueless fruitcake who he could deceive and deride at his leisure. She didn't deserve that. She deserved it less than most of the people he knew.

He didn't comfort girls. The idea was as foreign to him as Cantonese. He avoided emotional attachments to the opposite sex for this precise reason. If Roman was sad he just bought him a beer or told him a joke, and that was the end of that. Women were different. And this particular woman was very, _very_ different.

"Hey, come on, don't cry..." he murmured gingerly, placing an arm tentatively around her back as if expecting her to explode into another fit of rage at any moment.

"...I was a prick, I admit it. But I had a lot on my plate at the time with that backstabbing weasel Rollins..."

"Who beat you," Alicia sniffed spitefully.

"Only because the Disney reimagining of Jim Jones decided to get involved, so then I had to go after him..."

"And you lost," Alicia added, managing a vindictive smirk through her tears.

"...Then I think I can finally put it all behind me and focus on the Rumble and BAM! Knee injury. KABOOM! Fucking psych evaluation!"

"Karma's a wonderful thing," Alicia chuckled. At least he'd cheered her up, even if it was through mocking his recent poor fortunes.

"We've both had a pretty shitty time of it since we last spoke, huh?" Dean smiled wryly.

"We've been exploited. People know we're not the calmest, most conventional people around and they've taken advantage of it. Maybe if we'd had each other we could have given each other a heads up when we were being screwed with," Alicia said in an unusually calm and thoughtful tone.

"Maybe," Dean repeated in surprised agreement. She was making a disturbing amount of sense.

"So we had amazing sex, we understand each other when just about nobody else does, yet you don't think we could have something together?" she probed, her tone becoming more urgent and focused, her face hardening in conviction. Dean rolled his eyes, though he had to try a lot harder to muster his despair this time. But he couldn't. He didn't. He was Dean Ambrose. He removed his arm from her shoulders and took a symbolic step back from her.

"Look..." he began firmly, looking deep into her eyes. Her gorgeous brown eyes. _No, Dean, stop that!_ Instantly they began to widen and a quizzical frown etched her face. Her beautiful face. _For fuck's sake, Dean, get a grip!_

"...I am _not _gonna be your boyfriend. Don't take it personally, I've not been _anyone's_ boyfriend for about three years. I don't do relationships. We had fun that night. A lot of fun. But that's all, and I never gave you any hint I was looking for anything more. Believe me, you don't want what you think you want, I'm a goddamn trainwreck. By all means, we can hang out from time to time, but if you're angling for anything more, then please, let me get on with my lonely, messed up life that consists entirely of beating up people and getting beaten up, punctuated by the odd meaningless fuck session, OK?"

Her watched her face fall; she grimaced in sullen concentration as she processed his words.

"Meaningless fuck session," she repeated softly to herself, staring at the ground. All of a sudden, she was staring right back at him, her eyes firing up with indignation and fury.

"I see what's happening here..." she began, still gentle and quiet in her tone, but Dean could see the storm clouds gathering a mile off. Sure enough...

Alicia then broke into wild, uncontrolled giggles inches from Dean's face, before abruptly ceasing her laughter and staring meaningfully at him with tears running down her face. He really had opened himself quite the can of worms here.

"I thought you were different. I thought you were..."

"Your friend?" Dean finished.

"...That's what you said. Friends. We were friends, having fun, no strings attached, what happens in Chicago stays in Chicago and all that stuff. I'm not being a jackass here... well, no more than normal anyway."

"You find me attractive, right?" she demanded, grabbing him by the drawstrings of his hoodie.

"Hell yeah," he grinned sleazily through instinct, before realising that he was hardly helping the situation.

"You think I'm a good person?" she went on.

"Of course. Listen, it isn't you. It's having my head messed up with all this mushy crap when I'm in the business I'm in. Falling in love is fatal. That's if I'm even capable of it. I'm not a normal guy, Alicia. There's something very wrong with the way I think, and you don't want none of it, trust me," Dean gulped nervously, realising he'd shown a little more of his inner turmoil to her than he was planning to.

"So what, you're never gonna try? You're just gonna write it off as something you just can't have? I don't think there's anything wrong with you, or if there is, then it's wrong with me as well. People like us have got to stick together, even if it's the only 'normal' and 'sensible' thing we ever do," upon seeing the concern and desperation on her face, Dean's heart did something he didn't like it doing.

He turned and walked away, he didn't look back at her, he didn't respond to her, no matter how loud she shrieked at him. She was a crazy bitch, she didn't know what she was talking about. She was fooling herself, and in turn it was confusing him, that was all. Nothing but a trick of the mind, a glitch in the system. That was all.


	3. Chapter 3

**This may be the final chapter dependent on the feedback, which has been wonderful so far by the way. Thank you all so much!**

"Unless you prove you can control yourself, I'm suspending you from competition until further notice," Stephanie declared, business-like and devoid of emotion as ever, but Dean was certain he saw her repress a vindictive sneer of victory. Again, he'd let himself boil over and play right into their hands.

It was all very well to bemoan the Authority's tactics, but he would have been a fool to expect anything else. It was tempting to seethe with jealousy at Roman's recent triumphs, but he deserved his success, despite what the prevailing public opinion suggested. Dean pondered how his emotional makeup differed to that of his brother-in-arms. Roman seemed immune to self-doubt, to losses of composure when the heat was on.

Pressure seemed to make Roman more calm and clinical; he thrived on it. Maybe that was what it came down to; Roman was born-and-bred to succeed in this business, a thoroughbred if ever there was one. Dean was a mongrel; a hotheaded, maladjusted, impulsive mongrel. It didn't happen for people like him. He wasn't about to admit all of that to the WWE's resident ice queen though; he had a reputation to uphold.

"Control myself? Does your husband control himself? Laying beatings on his employees left and right. What happened to leading by example, huh?" he countered as the crowd roared their support.

"Triple H is obliged to enforce discipline however he sees fit," the Authority matriarch declared, sounding more like a press release than ever.

"That's his idea of discipline?" Dean scoffed.

"...your poor, poor kids."

He knew he'd touched the rawest nerve there was to touch where the royal couple were concerned. He knew those words may be the last to come from his mouth for a long while.

"Dean, _do not_ bring my family into this!" she snapped reflexively.

"Does he ever, um, enforce discipline on you? I've always had you down as handcuffs and ball-gags kinda girl," Dean revelled in the crowd's astonished gasps. and his boss's face glowing beet red with rage and embarrassment.

"Don't push me, Dean, I warn you now," she cautioned shakily.

"If _you'd_ pushed _me_ instead of sabotaging me at every turn, I never would have caused all this fuss in the first place. Your family's had it in for guys like me ever since your Dad developed his creepy bodybuilder fetish..." Dean began to retort, before Stephanie's irate snarl, ironically very reminiscent of her father's, cut across him.

"That's it! Dean Ambrose, I hereby suspend you without pay for one month!" she thundered.

"I'd like to see how you plan on stopping me showing up. I made my name turning up uninvited and causing a scene, remember?" Dean countered, the fires of confrontation burning deep with in him; his favourite warmth to bask in.

"Oh, don't worry, Mr Ambrose, I've thought ahead on that one. See, I'm offering you a very... big... severance package..." Stephanie paused. There came the vindictive sneer. All it took was a little provocation for the veneer of diplomacy to be scratched away and her to remember she was, after all, a McMahon.

Dean heard the crowd begin to stir anxiously. Cries to the effect of 'look out!' filled his ears. He turned around just in time to meet a colossal fist heading straight to his jaw, nearly spinning his head a full 360 degrees. Stephanie's shrill, condescending laughter and cries of encouragement squealed faintly away, almost as high-pitched as the ringing that was making all other noise unintelligible, as he felt boots begin to rain down on his prone body.

His vision was far too out-of-focus to determine who exactly was laying this beating on him and how many of them they were, and it didn't really matter. The Authority fought as one, and they didn't stop until all the defiance and rebellion had been beaten out of their chosen target. He prayed for someone to help, but realistically Roman was his only hope. He'd not given anyone else a reason to put their health, perhaps even their job, on the line in the name of saving him. No doubt Stephanie had thought ahead on that one too, no doubt his brother was undergoing similar treatment somewhere in the bowels of the building. He supposed he just had to take this beating and be thankful he had a month to recover.

All of a sudden he could make out the muddied thud of music. He prayed it was help arriving and not more corporate goons coming to join the party. All of a sudden the kicks stopped; he heard a scattered murmur spread across the arena that he could only interpret as confusion.

There was a heated exchange of words directly above him. Stephanie was screaming at the unidentified intruder, and the intruder was screaming back, roaring almost. The second voice was female. A girl was standing between a 450-pound giant and his prey? Who would be that brave? Who would be that stupid? Who cared enough about him to take such a ludicrous risk? The answer quickly became obvious.

He tried to steady himself against the ropes, blinking furiously in an attempt to bring his vision into focus. He could see Alicia's willowy, elegant form in front of him, arms outstretched, pleading, _demanding_ they stop their assault at once. What had he done to make her want to protect him like this? Why didn't she hate him? He'd been trying to make her hate him. It was much easier. Hate was something he was used to. But the other thing, the thing _she _wanted... frankly, it scared him way more than any beating ever could. People did crazy, crazy things for love. Things like this. Oh God, she loved him, didn't she? And that didn't horrify him half as much as it should... in fact, he was almost... _pleased_. Fuck.

He strained to make out the words being spoken in the ring. He prayed Alicia wasn't talking herself into ending up just like him. Even Stephanie wasn't callous enough to set her hitmen on a defenceless woman, but there were plenty of Divas in the back who would gladly offer their services to the ruling faction for a little something extra in their pay packet.

"Kane, tell her. I can't even bare to look at her!" he heard Stephanie snarl.

"For disobeying a direct order from your superior, for using derogatory language toward the esteemed Vice President of this company, we hereby also suspend you for one month without pay. Furthermore, you will be barred from challenging for the Divas championship for one year, effective as of tomorrow. We hope your vacation is restful and enjoyable," Kane announced in the most neutral and robotic tone imaginable, aside from drenching his final sentence in the maximum amount of sarcasm. She'd shot herself in the foot good and proper. All to help a sociopathic, perverted, untrustworthy loser from Ohio. 'Stupid girl,' Dean lamented.

Then he felt the warm touch of a hand at his cheek. He'd regained enough focus to make out her facial features as she knelt before him. She looked so... concerned. Dean was used to people being worried about him, but only in a way that meant they'd rather be anywhere else than in his presence. This girl actually _cared_ about him, and more unfamiliar still, he was extremely happy to know that.

"You're gonna be OK," he heard her voice; soft, shaken but determined, in his ear. She kissed him softly on the cheek as her hand cradled his head against her chest. Having his face buried in a beautiful woman's cleavage was never a bad thing as far as Dean was concerned, but he was enjoying this for altogether different reasons than usual. It calmed him. It reassured him, in a way his own thoughts or his male friends never could. All of a sudden the idea didn't seem so scary after all, he felt his urge to fight it receding. But then again, he'd just been hit very hard in the head.

* * *

"I'm not going to hospital!" Dean snapped, before instantly regretting being so aggressive. She didn't deserve that.

"I know," Alicia replied calmly, turning left at the intersection toward the hotel. Dean was stunned into silence. They were supposed to be arguing now. Everyone thought doctors were the answer to everything. They didn't understand what he associated hospitals with: the child psychologist appointments, the friends and relatives who'd been taken from him way before their time through trying to escape the grim reality of life in the Cincinnati projects via a bottle, or a needle, or a gun. Alicia had ruled it out without even asking him.

"I hate hospitals too," she affirmed, as if reading his mind, before taking on a rather intense and exaggeratedly nagging motherly voice.

"_'_Be nice to the doctor, Alicia, he's trying to help you. Even when he loses his temper when mommy's out of the room and threatens to hurt you if you don't behave.'"

Next came a nasal, little girl's voice, presumably intended to be her sister's.

"'Why can't you be normal, Alicia? I heard Mom say your medical bills are the reason we can never go on a decent vacation!'"

Dean placed his hand comfortingly on her thigh. There was nothing sexual about it. He wasn't exploiting her vulnerability, he just wanted to reassure her. Empathy. So that was what it felt like.

"We're so fucked up, aren't we?" he grinned. She giggled at the dark absurdity of the situation.

"We've got each other," she reassured, gripping his left hand with her right.

"That's pretty much all we've got for the next month..." Dean sighed.

"...They played me good and proper yet again, didn't they?"

"You stuck to your guns. You stood up for what you thought was right. Justice; isn't that what the Shield were all about?" she questioned gently.

"I guess," Dean smiled, heartened. He wanted to get to the hotel as soon as possible. He wanted to hold her, he wanted to thank her properly, He hadn't felt this way in years, if ever. Affection had never been an instinctive urge to him before, just what he thought he ought to be doing.

Their hands remained entwined for the rest of the journey, only separating when Alicia swung the car into the hotel parking area. It was only as he got out of the car that Dean realised quite how much of a number the Authority had done on him. He felt like his entire body had seized up as he tried to stand upright. Alicia offered to get him a wheelchair from the lobby. Dean's pride wouldn't let her. By the time he'd hobbled to his room, there was barely a part of him that didn't ache.

"Fuck, how am I supposed to take my shoes off, or anything else for that matter?" he questioned despairingly.

"That's why I'm here," Alicia replied, kneeling at the foot of the bed where Dean sat and yanking his boots and socks from his feet. Then came his trousers. Now more than ever Dean wished he was at something approaching 100% flexibility. It was going to be a frustrating few days.

Once he was fully nude, Alicia shepherded him across the room in the direction of the shower.

"I'll be in shortly," she smirked mischievously, which Dean excitedly reciprocated. However, there were still too many questions in his mind for him to just let this happen.

"Alicia?"

"Yeah?"

"What does this mean? Are we..."

"Do you want to be?"

"I know I've fucked you over once before, pun intended, but yes... yes I do. I hope you realise how special that makes you."

He saw her briefly tear up at hearing these words up before composing herself.

"J-just get in the shower, you!" she breathed, elation and relief evidently coursing through her veins, much as she tried to keep a lid on it. Alicia never managed to keep a lid on anything for too long.

He entered the bathroom, stepped inside the shower and waited patiently. Having seen her in all her finery on a previous occasion didn't make the anticipation any less acute, in fact it may have even heightened it. He'd never stopped being tormented by those tantalising memories since that September night. Now he'd made the step, all he could do is internally berate himself for not acting sooner. He thought he was being a man by not letting her under his skin, in fact he was being way more of a childish coward by denying the obvious.

In she came; her long, toned arms snaking around his middle from behind as she placed another kiss between his shoulder-blades.

"Guess I'm gonna have to wash you, seeing as you can barely move your upper torso," Alicia said.

"I'm afraid so," he answered with a shrug, feigning helplessness. He wasn't going to turn down that offer.

"Alrighty then, I'll need some of this," she stepped in front of him and bent down to pick the shower gel up from the floor of the shower, and he was able to observe her bare, glistening, pale brown form for the first time. Her backside was even plumper and more shapely than he remembered. He couldn't resist a gratuitous grope.

"Just cos we're a real, grown-up couple now doesn't mean I'm gonna be any less of a shameless pervert," he warned her jovially.

"It's OK. That makes two of us..." Alicia grinned, standing back upright and turning to face him.

"...I'd give you a squeeze in retaliation if not for the huge bruise you've got going on back there."

"So I guess they literally kicked my ass," Dean chuckled.

"Yup... right _here_," Alicia made a sudden lurch toward him, poking him hard on his bruised left buttock.

"Ah, fuck! What's wrong with you?" Dean yelped, the poke seemingly having triggered an ache in all the other battle scars on his body.

"Like I said before, if there's anything wrong with me, then it's the same thing that's wrong with you," Alicia replied, leaning in to him and raising her arms over his neck as he brought his hands to the small of her back.

"We're gonna be having _so _much sex when I'm healed up," Dean sighed primordially.

"I think you're a really great person too," Alicia fired back sarcastically.

"Hey, I'm learning this romance shit as I go along," Dean playfully protested.

"Don't worry, you've got nearly a whole year before Valentine's Day," Alicia replied.

"I fucking hate Valentine's Day," Dean snarled.

"Me too," Alicia replied, as their lips finally met.


	4. Chapter 4

"What do you mean you don't own a suit?!" Alicia questioned in horrified disbelief as she rifled furiously through Dean's wardrobe in the hope of finding something remotely formal or stylish.

"I don't have the need nor the inclination to own one," Dean replied in a weary tone, reclining on the bed and smirking at the state she was gradually working herself up into.

"You live in Vegas, what happens if you decide to hit a casino?" Alicia went on.

"I much prefer strip joints. And not the high-end ones either. A guy like me has no place in anything that calls itself a 'gentleman's club.'" Dean replied, taking a little too much delight in the sense of despair he knew he was filling her with. Ultimately, he loved confrontation and pushing buttons too much to let a good comeback pass him by.

"Ah, I've _seen _you in a suit!" Alicia piped up victoriously.

"...You wore one to the Slammies, and the Hall of Fame. What happened to it?"

"A wild, wild night in... I wanna say San Jose, could've been Oakland, Roman will remember. Long story short, it ended up with several buttons missing and covered in at least two different bodily fluids. I never got round to replacing it," Dean explained, with a fond grin of rememberance.

"Do you know where we're going?" Alicia questioned rhetorically.

"To take selfies with superficial pricks with faces so full of botox they cry through their nipples. Or they would if they weren't on too many different pills to feel any natural emotion," Dean retorted derisively.

"Look, whether you like it or not, this is the world I come from, this is where I met some of my oldest friends. I've bounced in moshpits with sweaty neckbeards for you, the least you can do is dress nice for me this one time and clap when I come down the catwalk," Alicia snapped leaping onto the bed and pressing herself menacingly atop him with her hands.

"You loved the Deftones show. You got to beat up complete strangers without consequence. You were in heaven," Dean chuckled, fondly cupping her cheek in the hope of teasing a conceding chuckle out of her. No such luck.

"Deany, I'm serious. Look, serious face," she said, fixing him with a look of hardened dertermination. Dean's desire to rile her up was made all the more irresistible by the fact that her 'serious face' was also one of her cutest.

"I just think you're better than that now. You've moved beyond all the air kisses and the backhanded compliments and the pretending you don't have any glands. You're an ass-kicker now, you're a maniac, you're _my_ maniac. You're too much for those stiffs to handle," he implored, bringing his other hand to her cheek, heartened that his words caused her expression to soften slightly.

"I can't let Frankie down. If he hadn't given me a chance all those years ago, I'd never have modelled, I'd never have got my WWE deal, and we'd never have met. Think of it that way. He needs ten models for this show, one girl missed her flight, I'm in the area, so I'm gonna help him out as a one-off for old time's sake. Then I'll go back to kicking ass and running wild. This isn't Foxy selling out, I promise you," she said softly, leaning forward and kissing him warmly on the lips.

Living for two hadn't come easily to Dean, but if he had to open his secret, solitary world up to anyone, he was glad it was this wonderful little weirdo. He'd grown so protective of her during the past few months, an emotion he was far from familiar with. She'd risked her life and career in the ring for him that night and he'd forever be grateful.

For the most part, people were a chore to Dean Ambrose. Alicia was many things, but tedious was not one of them. She was the most annoying, unpredictable, clingy person he'd ever met; yet she was also the most loyal, affectionate and vibrant. He couldn't begin to explain exactly what it was they had, why it worked, why he'd let Alicia into places he'd never let anyone normal go. All he knew was that it was special, and that he wouldn't give it up for anything.

* * *

"Who is _that _guy, and what's he wearing?"

"Did they let a hobo in off the street?"

"Where did he get that popcorn?"

"I brought it with me. I like popcorn," Dean shrugged as the sharply-dressed middle-aged couple on the next table realised he'd overheard every word of their asinine, closed-minded disapproval toward him.

"Say, anywhere a guy can get a beer around here?" he asked them, looking hopefully around.

"There's free champagne over there," the painfully-thin woman gestured with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

"Oh, awesome," Dean exclaimed, leaping to his feet, wilfully ignoring the pre-poured glasses and swigging directly from the bottle, before instantly regretting it.

"Eugh, my God. You actually drink this stuff, like, for fun? Like, not as a dare? Tastes like stale piss, and I say that from experience," he proclaimed with a grimace, as the couple's jaws dropped in revulsion. However, before they could reprimand him any further, the lights dimmed and the show began.

Against his instincts, Dean soon found himself spellbound. Alicia moved with such poise and grace, it was almost as if she used to do this for a living or something. However, his new friends clearly didn't agree.

"Look at those arm muscles. This isn't the hammer-throw, sweetie," the thin woman muttered derisively as her husband stifled a chuckle.

"That's a real woman is what that is," Dean hissed violently as he spun round in his chair. He turned back to the stage to find Alicia winking mischievously at him.

"You see that look?" he asked the hecklers.

"That means something awesome's about to happen."

As the exhibition drew to a close and the models took their final bows, Dean saw Alicia hastily moving the other girls to the side. Next he knew, the room filled with gasps and cheers of surprise as she cartwheeled and then backflipped her way to the end of the catwalk, landing split-legged at the end of the runway.

"Ugh, my God, where did they get _her _from?" the woman continued to despair.

"Don't overshadow the clothes. First rule of modelling."

"Admit it..." Dean began as he got to his feet to applaud.

"...that was fucking awesome. Before that this was just another boring fashion show, now everyone's gonna be talking about it. That's the sort of thing viral sensations are made of."

"That's a good point," the man murmured in agreement.

"Shut up, Eric!" his wife snapped.

* * *

"I love you,... Alicia said for about the twentieth time since they'd left the show. Not that Dean was tired of hearing it.

"...You didn't punch _anyone_, you stayed sober... _ish_, but you were still you. And that's all I can ever ask for."

He swept her up into his arms and leapt recklessly onto the sofa, with Alicia landing snugly in his lap.

"You looked so happy up there, how could I possibly ruin that?" he smiled with the kind of uncharacteristic sweetness and honesty that only she could bring out in him.

"Awww..." Alicia sighed bunching her shoulders together and beaming, before deciding the best way of expressing this swelling of emotion was to unleash a relentless barrage of kisses about his face and neck.

"You're the best," she concluded when she was through with her assault. Dean grinned smugly at her in anticipation. She eyed him with guarded suspicion.

"What's that look for?" she questioned with playful intrigue.

"I was just wondering what my reward is," he replied, with a sleazy raise of his eyebrow.

Alicia leant back, straddling his middle and tapped her finger against her chin in thought. Dean waited in aroused anticipation. He loved how her mind worked in these situations. Finally she leant forward, one hand on his shoulder as she pressed her lips against his right ear.

"I'm gonna let you do something very naughty with me," she whispered seductively, before kissing him softly on the temple.

"And what exactly is that?" Dean asked excitedly.

"You'll find out..." Alicia proclaimed in a sing-song voice as she pushed off of his chest and sprang to her feet.

"...see you in the bedroom."

And with that she scampered across the apartment and out of sight. Dean slowly clambered off the sofa and began undressing in preparation in front of the mirror.

"You're a very lucky man, Dean Ambrose," he told his reflection.

He proceeded along the corridor and slowly opened the bedroom door. There she was in all her finery, a coy smirk playing on her lips. He'd never been with a girl who was capable of being just as wild and dirty-minded as him, but God was it about time.

"So, what's the plan?" Dean asked, joining her on the bed and moving his lips to hers.

"Look... behind you... on the table..." Alicia breathed between kisses.

Dean wheeled around. Beside the bed lay a condom and a bottle of lubricant. He separated himself from Alicia and clambered over to grab it. When he turned back around, Alicia had rolled onto all fours, presenting her voluptuous behind in his direction. She turned to look at him, taking great delight in the expression of perverted glee that was covering his face.

"This..." she began, gesturing to her backside with a light slap to her right buttock.

"...is all yours."

"Are you sure?" Dean queried pensively, knowing the situation would lose all its attraction if the pleasure wasn't mutual. It had been a long time since he'd felt that way about sex.

"I really want you to fuck me in the ass, Deany, OK?" she cooed, in a tone Dean would have described as innocent if not for the words it was speaking. Words that could not have turned him on any more than they did. And unusually, it wasn't just the act that had him bubbling with excitement and pride. It was the level of trust she was placing in him.

"I fucking love you, Alicia Fox. I mean that," he breathed.

Settling onto his knees, he scooped some of the lotion onto his hand.

"You do know what you're doing, don't you?" she asked, displaying nervousness for just about the only time Dean could recall.

"Absolutely. Do you?" he replied, realising that this situation could be completely new to her, a possibility that made him feel all the more privileged.

"It's been a while, but, yeah, I do," she replied.

"I won't hurt you, I promise," he blurted out defiantly.

"I know you won't," Alicia replied calmly. As if it wasn't even a possibility. She trusted him completely and utterly. Dean wasn't used to being trusted. It should have been pressuring to him, but it wasn't. He had no desire to force her into anything in the name of his own gratification, no desire to cause her any pain, physical or mental, in any scenario.

Using his left hand to keep her cheeks apart, he began thoroughly lining her entrance with the lube, taking great delight in the half-giggle, half-moan she let out as his fingers came into contact with the sensitive flesh. He then slowly, carefully eased his index finger into her back passage, noting with a little trepidation just how very tight it was.

"Hope I fit," he murmured in concern.

"Don't flatter yourself," Alicia fired back, earning her a pointed smack to her behind as the both grinned at each other.

"Damn you've got a great ass," Dean marvelled as he watched the plump flesh jiggle in response to his touch.

"I've been hearing that for ten years, honey. Tell me something I don't know," Alicia countered as Dean shook his head in fondness and disbelief.

"Now who's getting cocky?" he asked rhetorically.

"Hey, we're both really fucking hot, there's no point being shy about it..." Alicia asserted.

"...it's not arrogance, it's just... _ohhh God!_"

Alicia's proclamations were soon silenced as Dean entered her. In spite of his worries, he fit just perfectly.

"Jesus Christ that's good," he breathed instinctively has he slowly began thrusting and savouring the exquisite friction, grabbing meaty handfuls of her firm buttocks for leverage.

He only lasted a matter of minutes in such tight confines, but they were among the most glorious of his life, and based on the wild, primal cries Alicia was giving out, he wasn't the only one. He pulled out just before his moment of climax. Realising Alicia was not yet there, he manoeuvred her onto her back, laying atop of her as he captured her left nipple in his mouth and lowered his right hand to her moist slit, indulgently manipulating both until she finally peaked with a glorious wail of fulfilment.

He rolled back onto the mattress and leant her head atop his chest. Sex was so much better when you actually wanted to know the other person after it was all said and done. It had taken him way too long to realise that. He'd found something very special here, and felt as if whoever dared try take it from him would instantly become his worst enemy. Little did he know, that theory would soon be put to the test.


End file.
